When Is it Okay To Tell Your Life Partner They Have A Fat Ass

Listen.  In retrospect, maybe I have spoken of my ass size too liberally lately...promulgating my love for a big booty and spreading the news of how I have embraced it.

But this happened the other day:

Upon discussing with Heather the various asses that we are surrounded by (re: not jackasses as in idiots, but actual asses of people we know)..

wait...I realized that by sharing with you that Heather and I sit around talking about people's asses we may come off as slightly shallow...which...in fact...may be true...so...back to the story...

...upon discussing with Heather the various asses that we are surrounded by, Heather decided she would share her feelings about a pair of shorts I wear when I run. They are grey cotton and I have had these suckers for at least 5 years.  I wore them at 220 and I wear them now at whatever weight I am.  I have no idea how my thigh fire (you know...the heat and friction one with big thighs generates when running...) hasn't caused the crotch to disintegrate.  But I wear them bc if I wear capris when I run, I have to pull the bottom part of the legs up over my calves, near my knees.  If I don't the jiggle in all my jello will cause my capris to pull down and then I am constantly pulling those suckers up and run the risk of looking like a white, full-figured, semi-athletic, Steve Urkle.  SO, I wear these shorts when I can, instead of capris.  And because I know they aren't...well...attractive or flattering, I usually only wear them on runs with people who love me.

Which I thought included my girlfriend/partner/fiance.

Lord I can get long winded.

What I was saying WAS...Heather and I were talking about asses and she said "Yeah, your ass in those grey shorts...well....they make your ass look different than when you wear your spandex....they make your ass look...

...you know...

...it looks...."

And I knew what she wanted  to say, but she was fighting internally with herself not to say what she wanted to say and thus had caused some sort of brain stroke to happen where she could no longer use her words...only make small grunting sounds and hand gestures...

So I said it for her...

"Fat?  They make my butt look fat?"

Now.  We should pause at this point in our story to realize that Heather was now at the brink of entering THE POINT OF NO RETURN.  Why clearly my ass is fat (although muscular as well), and while clearly I was sitting her up for potential failure...she had a choice in how she would respond to the bump-set dilemma that was not upon her.  And so she said...

"Yes...fat".

Well I'll be a fatty booty sugarcube...I can't believe she just said that.

I don't remember what I said.

Okay.  Fine.  I remember.

I said "BABE!  DON'T SAY MY ASS IS FAT!"

To which she said, "YOU said your ass if fat.  I just agreed with you."

sigh.

It's been several days now and she is still living.  I of course have brought the above mentioned conversation up about 1,426 times.

Last night she said, "I thought we had long ago established you have a fat ass.  I love you fat ass.  YOU say you love your fat ass.  So what is the problem?!"

I told her that in the future we may refer to my ass size using other descriptors...like "thick" or "big"  or "beefy" or "ponderous"...

She probably wasn't listening.

She was probably mesmerized by my "husky" and "plump" derriere...

It happens.

I figure it may be fat, but it supafine and all mine!  If she is lucky...I might share it with her.  But not until she is off of restriction for her behavior.

Happy Thursday friends!